


ink

by rycnbergara



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: The Try Guys
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, but i'll get to them next chap, drunk!Ryan, everyone else is mentioned for like a second - Freeform, heartbroken!ryan, pining!ryan, pining!shane, ryan shane and helen are the mains in this, shyan, tattoo soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rycnbergara/pseuds/rycnbergara
Summary: "R-Ryan?""I wanted it off." He sniffled, suddenly very ashamed. "It doesn't come off. I'm sorry."orin a world where everyone is born with a tattoo that represents them on their wrist, Ryan gets his heart broken and Shane is there for him.





	ink

**8AM. Shane’s home, LA, California.**

 

Ryan, for the first time in a week, felt numb. And yet, at the same time, he felt every emotion known to man. His hand ghosted over his stomach, where the three stars that represented Helen were defaced, mutilated, but so plainly _there_. It was permanent, you see. The ink.

 

Not to say that Ryan hadn’t _tried._ The wounds were beginning to scab over, surrounding the stars. The stars, _holy shit_ , they had been beautiful in their prime, with tingling feeling of a new soul tattoo still felt in them, Helen giggling about how they represented Peter Pan, like her last name. Ryan could still hear the warmth in her laugh, and that shot daggers through his heart and through the stars.

 

But now, now he felt numb. It had been another day of pretending to be okay to everyone aside from Shane; to only be vulnerable in the evening, once Shane had driven him home. It had just been another day since Helen had broken his heart.

 

“What’ll we watch?” Helen had grinned, and Ryan’s heart had soared at the sight of it.

 

“Your choice, baby. I’ll get the popcorn.”

 

And Ryan had retrieved it from the microwave, and he carried it carefully all the way through to the lounge again, where he saw something that almost made him drop it.

 

Helen was scrolling through Netflix, her hair now tied up and the sleeve of her jumper had slipped down, exposing her shoulder and the small lightning bolt that had blossomed over the skin there – it vaguely reminded him of infinitesimal Lichtenberg scars, but they were an inky black. Ryan certainly felt like _he_ had been struck by lightning in that moment as his feet stuck fast to the floor, unable to move.

 

Ryan’s symbol was most definitely _not_ a lightning bolt.

 

Who was he kidding? He _had_ dropped the popcorn. The bowl clattering and smashing on the ground had caused Helen to whip around, seeing the tears already falling from Ryan’s eyes – Ryan _never_ cried – and she swore softly, standing, seeing the mistake she had made by allowing her jumper to slip, but Ryan had already left the room, to their shared bedroom, and he had packed his bag and left with hardly a choked-out word. Helen didn’t love him, and she was seeing someone else. It was as simple as that. One tiny black mark on her tan skin had revealed so much.

 

It had been pouring with rain that night. _Typical_ , he had thought, as he stumbled blindly, his feet on autopilot as they carried him through the rain, shivering in his t-shirt. Ryan’s sniffles had almost escalated into a breakdown as the grief ripped and clawed at his heart. He had found himself outside Shane’s flat approximately half an hour later, and the tall man had comforted the sobbing one as they sat on the sofa together, eating popcorn well into the night.

****

Ryan blinked, launched back in the present, and suddenly the numbness he had been feeling was replaced with an inexplicable warmth as he recounted the memory, and Ryan could feel a new outline of a tattoo being formed. He swore aloud, because he knew _exactly_ what this meant. He lifted his shirt, ignoring the defaced stars on his stomach and peering at the tattoo just above his peck, where a tiny hotdog was now settled on the skin over his _heart_. He had seen that hotdog many times, the same place where Ryan’s ghost was, and where Zach’s cat was. The left wrist, palm up. But on Shane.

 

The issue here, though, was that the tattoo was _gold._

Ryan’s parents had always insisted to Ryan and Jake that the golden tattoos were real, but it didn’t matter if you never got one. Black ink was just as valid as gold, whoever you fell in love with was just as important and you could choose to spend the rest of your life with them, even if they weren’t your soulmate. Ryan’s parents never got their golden tattoos, but they had decided they were perfect enough for each other _._

 

He groaned, muttering to himself. He had thought, all these years, that the golden tattoos were indeed myths (his parents had insisted Santa Claus was real, too), and he almost rolled off his bed at the realisation that this meant his actual soulmate was Shane Alexander Madej. Ryan thanked everything in the Heavens above him that Shane was in his room, in his bed, and therefore couldn’t see the blush that dusted his cheeks at that moment.

This was just another thing he’d have to hide.

 

 

***

 

**11PM. Shane’s home, LA, California. One week earlier.**

Ryan had shown up at his door, drenched and sobbing. It was an understatement to say that Shane was bewildered.

 

But Mamma Madej had taught him well. She could take care of anyone at a moment’s notice, never leaving anyone hungry or heartbroken. And now, Shane had to take care of Ryan. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him but the suitcase in his hand made it clear that something had happened with Helen, and something bad, at that.

 

He didn’t have to wait much longer to find out.

 

“She has a lightning bolt on her shoulder.” Ryan had announced, choked out through broken sobs, sounds that shattered Shane’s heart. He was quick to pull the smaller man into his chest, backing away from the door and shutting the rain out. Ryan heaved and cried onto Shane, but the taller man didn’t mind at all. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan, the two backing towards the sofa as Ryan cried and cried, and he only stopped when he had no tears left to shed. He looked up to Shane with red eyes and Shane felt a physical pain in his chest at the sight.

 

Shane had seen the ghost on Ryan’s wrist too many times to know that a lightning bolt had nothing to do with Ryan. His blood boiled at the very audacity Helen had to break Ryan’s heart. The smaller man was fragile, but he pretended not to be. Ryan tried not to cry around people, but this – this was the mess that such a mentality left him with, too many broken pieces that are inordinately difficult to pick up, let alone repair. But Shane was there to try and pick them up.

 

The ghost over his heart? Perhaps that was the glue.

 

Ryan was asleep by 1 AM, passed out on Shane’s sofa, emotionally exhausted. Shane was left alone with his thoughts and the weight of a head on his shoulder. He set the empty popcorn bowl to the side, staring up at the ceiling – or, in all honesty, anywhere except his sleeping soulmate.

 

So, Ryan was Shane’s soulmate, but was Shane Ryan’s? It was a simple question with a beyond complicated answer, and it had been bugging Shane since almost exactly a month previously. He could say one thing, though. When he looked into Ryan’s eyes, it felt like coming home. Ryan’s eyes were depths of purity and happiness, of passion and warmth, of sass and laughter. How dare Helen turn those pools to fear, to hurt, to mistrust and pain? Shane knew, deep down, that while there was _no_ excuse for cheating on Ryan, that it wasn’t entirely her fault that she wasn’t in love with him. She was in love with another man, she had received a tattoo, it was the real deal. That’s what these dumb tattoos were for – making these things clearer for everyone.

 

But that left the shitty move Helen had made of leading Ryan along at the same time, leaving him to find out in the worst way possible, enough to make him _cry_. Ryan didn’t cry, he screamed and yelled at haunted locations, he would throw his head back or pull at his hair when he was stressed, but he did not cry.

 

Ryan let out a series of whimpers very suddenly in his sleep. Shane whipped around to face him, a frown pulling at his lips as he reached out a hesitant hand, frightened to touch the smaller man. But the terrified noises that were leaving Ryan’s mouth made Shane’s mind up for him. He slipped his arm tighter around Ryan until his hand rested on Ryan’s shoulder. His thumb traced comforting circles on his bicep, and Ryan sniffled before nuzzling a little further into Shane’s side. The taller man tried to ignore how his heart fluttered at that.

 

He knew, in that moment, that firstly, he could never forgive Helen for the hurt she had caused, and secondly – _he would do anything for Ryan Bergara._

***

**12AM. Dee’s bar, LA, California. One month later.**

Ryan knew it should really be time for him to stop by now. It must be, what, his sixth beer of that night? He was, by all accounts, a lightweight, and _Jesus,_ he was drunk. But it had been almost a full month of attempting to act normal around Shane since he received his golden tattoo. The only thing to be said was that it was incredibly emotionally draining, having a crush on your best friend – screw that, _being in love with_ your best friend, let alone being soulmates. Ryan couldn’t see a solution other than to pretend the tattoo didn’t exist and get on with his miserable life, but this wasn’t practical – the tattoo felt like it was _glowing_ every time he and Shane were in close proximity.

 

So, he decided to get shitfaced. Y’know, as a short-term solution.

 

Plenty of his co-workers were with him – Steven, Andrew, Adam, Keith, Eugene, Zach, Ned – but the most burning presence he felt was Shane, sitting right beside him. He tried to ignore the taller man, choosing to laugh to himself instead about how Andrew was blushing furiously at almost everything Steven said – until he realised he was in the exact same situation.

 

“I’m telling you, Ryan.” Shane nudged him gently. “Bears don’t even pose a threat to hippos.”

 

“N-no, fuck you, Shane.” Ryan swallowed, trying not to slur his words. “The bear…is the _d-deadliest_ …”

 

The way Shane’s brow furrowed in concern made Ryan’s heart flutter. He giggled aloud at the feeling.

 

“Are…are you sure you’re alright, Ryan?”

 

“Yessss.” Ryan beamed, topping off his bottle and smacking it back onto the table with a thud, startling all his other tipsy co-workers. Eugene, who had Zach practically falling asleep on his shoulder, shushed him loudly. He frowned and apologised in a dejected voice, before Shane was on his feet.

 

“Time to get you home, I think, little man.” Ryan was going to groan in protest, decidedly not wanting to leave his friends, but Shane’s arm tightly wrapped around his waist to hold him up quickly changed his mind. He grabbed his phone, waving goodbye over his shoulder as the two walked – or in Ryan’s case, staggered – out of the bar, into the pouring rain, and towards Shane’s apartment. Ryan used every ounce of his drunken willpower not to reach out and grab Shane’s hand.

***

 

Shane didn’t mean to let Ryan get as hammered as he was. He felt Ryan nuzzling into his side the whole walk home, mumbling about bears, and Shane realised quickly that he didn’t mind drunk Ryan at all. It seemed, however, that there was a dampen upon Ryan’s giggly side, and Shane figured it was the chilling rain. The rain seemed to have sobered him up quite a bit, and now he was quiet. The smaller man was sniffling every few breaths, and Shane pulled him ever-so-slightly closer, knowing full well Ryan would get a cold, and that was the last thing he wanted.

 

Soon enough, they arrived at Shane’s place, the taller man’s freezing hands fumbling with the keys, but finally they were greeted with the sanctuary of the house, the warmth and light welcoming them like old friends. Ryan stumbled inside with a giggle and Shane followed with a ghost of a smile as he peeled off his soaking hoodie and kicked off his shoes.

 

“You okay, bud?” he called through to Ryan as he wandered through, finding him in Shane’s bedroom.

 

“Y-yeah, just c-c-cold.” Ryan frowned, and Shane bit his lip. The iciness of the rain seemed to have sobered him up quite a bit.

 

“You wanna sleep in here tonight? It’ll be warmer.” Shane scolded himself. _Warmer? Really? That was the best reason he could come up with for asking Ryan to sleep in his bed?_

 

Regardless, it worked. Ryan grinned widely and started to undo the zipper of his soaking hoodie, but his icy hands were fumbling, and he began to frown. Shane couldn’t help but find the whole scene terribly endearing, and he was enamoured by the look Ryan gave him after he had given up with what he must have considered a most difficult task.

 

Shane moved closer to Ryan, peeling off his hoodie for him and then his shirt, before he dropped the shirt on the ground in shock, sitting down on the bed. The two marks he found both stunned him, but in entirely different ways. He decided one was more pressing than the other, the defaced tattoo of Helen’s distressed him.

 

“R-Ryan?”

 

“I wanted it off.” He sniffled, suddenly seeming very ashamed. “It doesn’t come off. I’m sorry.”

 

Shane didn’t know what else to do than to hug him, letting Ryan nuzzle into his chest, feeling his little ghost tattoo burn beautifully at the contact. “She broke your heart. Don’t apologise.” He whispered gently, and Ryan nodded. “C’mon. Sleep.”

 

***

 

**7.30 AM. Shane’s home, LA, California. The next morning.**

 

Ryan could tell that Shane had observed the golden tattoo as well as the defaced black one. He may have been tipsy, but he wasn’t stupid. It caused a swirling depth of anxiety inside him, as though he was glad Shane had seen it, but simultaneously terrified. Ryan really wasn’t sure what his next move should be.

 

Right now, all he knew was that there was a glass of water on his side of the bed and a still-warm pillow beside him. Not to mention the loud singing along to Dua Lipa coming from the kitchen. It was early, and as he slowly rose and downed the water, he couldn’t help but appreciate how domestic it felt. Damn it, now he had made his own heart race.

He found Shane, as he expected, in the kitchen, and laughed lovingly at the way Shane’s hips bopped back and forth to _Begging,_ while whisking something in a bowl and flipping something that smelled amazing in a pan.  

 

“Hey.” The taller man jumped, before murmuring a greeting back. “Whatcha making?”

 

“Pancakes.” Shane beamed, and Ryan blushed under his gaze.

 

“You haven’t half made a mess, though.” Ryan chuckled, referencing the piles of flour all over the floor, table, and worktops, and the various packages that were laying, forgotten about, littered all over the place. It was Shane’s turn to blush, following Ryan’s gaze around the chaotic kitchen.

 

“Shut up, Ryan.” The men made eye contact before laughing gently.

 

“Listen, dude-”

 

“Ryan, you don’t have to-”

 

“Please.” He whispered, and Shane sighed.

 

“I saw both. I pressed on Helen’s tattoo because I thought it was more important,         I guess.”

 

“More important?!”

 

“Stop. You know exactly what I mean.” Shane’s eyes softened, and Ryan swallowed. “Would you believe me if I said that I love you, Ryan? Because I think the tattoo on my chest more than proves that.”

 

Ryan’s eyes suddenly went wide, like a tentative fawn stepping out of the woods. Shane was enamoured. “You have…?”

 

Shane nodded, lifting up his shirt, revealing the tiny shimmering gold ghost that laid there. Ryan suddenly forgot how to breathe. “It’s been there since the Sallie house.”

 

Ryan was almost speechless, but he somehow choked out the words to say, “Can I-”

 

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, at this point.” And then Shane’s lips were on his, and it was everything Ryan had hoped for – warm, gentle, like _coming home_ ; yet at the same time, so passionate, sparks flying, and Ryan couldn’t get enough of it. He ran his hand through Shane’s hair, and the taller man slid his hand around Ryan’s waist, bringing him impossibly closer. They kissed, and they kissed, until Ryan’s lungs were burning, and they had to come up for air, and they rested their foreheads together and giggled.

 

“I take it you’d believe me if I said I love you, too?”

 

“Ryan, we’re soulmates. _I know_.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk i found this prompt and this happened yay. p sure this is the longest I've ever written go me!
> 
> HUGE s/o to meg ( @goldsworths on twitter ) for proofreading and basically telling me to get my shit together and finish it. love you!! 
> 
> planning another couple chapters for different ships, lemme know what you think?


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